大象传媒

The Army medical -- and how
not to 'dodge the column!'
MIKE recalls the Army medical -- designed to determine the specific category in which to replace recruits -- as "to say the least, unsophisticated."
"There were none of those impressive looking electronic boxes with dials, switches and flashing lights," he explained.
"The room was bare ," he said, "except for an opticians' wall chart, a table, a chair and, on the table, one of those hammers with a rubber head with which to test your reflexes by a swift bang on the knee.
"Category Al, which I obtained, seemed to signify that you had the right number of the usual body parts.
"They were particularly fussy about flat feet though, which was strange because once they had you in, their prime objective seemed to be to flatten them completely by continuous marching!"
TRICKERY
As expected, there were always those who were determined to avoid
military service and got up to all manner of trickery in an engineered bid to fail their medical.
"Many stories were told about the wonderful schemes employed by men anxious ,to 'dodge ,the column'," Mike explained. "Most of those were apocryphal, and my favourite certainly was." It goes:
Two pals were waiting to be called in for their medical. Having stripped off, one said to the other: "What's that you're wearing?"
"It's a truss," said his mate. "I won't pass the medical with this thing on." The lie duly went on and on his reappearance he happily stated: "I told you so. The doc said I was MU, Medically Unfit."
"Give me that thing," demanded his pal, and quickly slipped on the truss before going into the medical inspection room.
He. came out some time later looking demoralised. "What happened?" asked his pal.
"Well," he replied, "the doc looked me over, pointed at the truss and asked 'What's that thing?'
"A truss, sir."
"How long have you worn it?" "About two years, sir"
"That's all my man, category ME." "ME sir? What's that?"
"Fit for service in the Middle East," the doctor replied. "Anyone who can wear a truss upside down for two years is fit enough to ride a camel!".
18

The 'Curly' enigma
"This is the simple story of a man who came from we know not where, made an indelible impression upon us all, then once he considered his task was done, returned to that unknown destination to finish his life's work, about which he told us nothing."
The words of Mike Sambrook are a fitting introduction to his recollection of the regimental padre Curly, who helped restore men's faith in humanity in the midst of the inhumanity of war.
It's a story not just fascinating in content, but brilliantly told by an old soldier who vividly remembers the events of 57 years ago as if they were only yesterday.
It was the Spring of 1944 and the regiment, untested in battle, awaited the invasion of Europe -- the so-called Second Front -- to play its part in the liberation of those nations under Hitler's yoke.
The regiment was housed in comfortable billets in the South East of England, from where it would proceed to its port of embarkation.
"On the receipt of a codeword our training would get its first test," Mike recalled. . '
"Trucks," he explained, "would be waterproofed for the journey through the sea from landing craft to shore, paraphernalia of war, from heavy ammunition to spare bootlaces, would be loaded, and with petrol tanks filled, we would be ready for war.
"So we waited, polishing the already over-turnished, applying yet more paint to the overpainted, greasing and oiling the excessively lubricated weaponry, all of which was done to alleviate the mounting tension as our testing time drew near."
But all was not quite ready. The regiment still awaited the arrival of one person -- it's first resident padre -- who would accompany the troops to war.
"It was a sombre thought indeed," said Mike, "that he might be needed in his official capacity at some future date in the midst of battle."
Looking back, Mike can remember the troops' mixed reaction to news that they were to be joined by a padre.
"Visiting clergy were one thing, but one resident in our Officers' Mess was another kettle of fish," he pointed out.

ANTICS
Mike can remember thinking: "How will he adjust to the antics of brutal and licentious soldiery, currently full of nervous energy, insufficiently tapped

during working ours, thus leaving a surplus at night to be expended in the Mess?"
"This expenditure," he explained, "took the form of what we laughingly called 'games.'
"They were a danger of life and limb, and very wearing on the less substantial items of furniture. Furthermore, they were invariably conducted under the influence of alcohol.
"Such behaviour some 50 years on must sound pretty uncivilised, but it must be remembered that we were akin to sportsmen before the big game -- a game which, we had only practised, never played.
"All of us were hoping that we would survive whilst acquitting ourselves honourably, but we were also aware that, inevitably, some of us " would pay the price."
Days passed and there was no word of the arrival of the padre, but apprehension among the soldiers intensified when they learned that he would be no common clergyman.
"He was in fact," said Mike, "coming to us straight from a monastery, and a 'silent order' at that, having been ordered back into the world for the duration of hostilities by his superior ."
As the days passed, it was soon time for the padre to join his men, and Mike can recall his arrival vividly.
"It was evening," he recalled. "The mess lounge was crowded with officers enjoying their favourite pre-dinner tipple, standing in groups as men do, with the hubbub conversation filling the room.
"Suddenly, group by group, commencing at the doorway, talking ceased until all was quiet. There, standing in the doorway, with all eyes turned upon him, was our man.
'ETCHED'
"It is over 50 years since that fragment of time, but his image standing there is etched forever on my mind as if carved in stone.
"He was slightly built, below average height, and looked more like a boy in his obviously brand new captain's uniform, with its black insignia of rank, which denoted his calling.
"I looked at his face, with its pink and white complexion contrasting with our weather-beaten countenances.
"His eyes were of a very light blue with that strange quality often seen in old religious paintings, that follow you without seeming to move.
"We were immobilised for what seemed minutes, but in fact could only have been a matter of seconds. We all felt that he was looking at each of us individually, yet his gaze was steadfast and without expression.

"We were mesmerised by his look of serenity. Though all our eyes were upon him, he showed no signs of nervousness or tension.
"It was as if we were the newcomers to be evaluated. It was uncanny and inexplicable.
"Then the spell was broken by, of all things, his hair, or rather lack of it. He had been a shaven red head, but now the stubble was growing in honour of his return to -the outside world.
"I do not know who spoke, but his voice rang loud and clear across the silent room -- 'welcome to the regiment Curly!'
"So,Curly was his name all the time he was with us and never did he show the slightest sign of resentment."
Despite his previous withdrawal from "normal life," the new padre slotted into the daily military routine "without any seeming effort.
And Mike even recalls how he showed no surprise at the "strange way" in which the Army conducted its business.
"He said little," recalled Mike, "but when addressed, after a pause for thought, spoke simply and with great clarity.
"When asked, he would express his opinion on most subjects, treating even the trivial with due seriousness.
"He was able, in some way, to leave us in no doubt that on matters of principle he would never compromise, without being in any way sanctimonious.
"It came as a surprise to us the adeptness with which he quickly defused loaded questions, particularly those aimed at discovering something of his past life.
"His quiet manner and unworldliness should have set him up as a prime target for the leg-pulling which is inevitable amongst a group of men clubbed together as we were, but somehow no-one dared
.

"Not, I believed, because he was a soft target, but rather the opposite. Here was a man with a spiritual toughness hitherto not known to us, who, if we had been honest, was making us feel somewhat uneasy about our approach to life. -
"At night in the mess our efforts to defy the laws of gravity, during our 'games' were viewed without emotion. To him I believe we were like children in the playground -- full of high spirits and mildly naughty, but without vice.
Curly, however, did not have to suffer such eccentricities for long, as the regiment was shipped off to Normandy and into battle for the first time.
"The significance of it all," said Mike, "struck us like a bolt from the blue. Comrades of over five years would never be seen again and others were maimed for life ."

But in the midst of it all, Curly played his part, ministering to the wounded, comforting the dying and ensuring that the temporary graves of the dead were properly marked for eventual reburial in the permanent cemeteries.
"He was obviously affected by mans' inhumanity to man," explained Mike, "but his serenity prevailed and steadied us during those first moments of horror until our discipline and training took over.
"During subsequent battles," he continued, "Curly and his driver travelled without hesitation to any part of the front line where his services might be required.
"And. it must be appreciated that merely travelling along dusty roads, pinpointed by the enemy's artillery, was an extremely hazardous business, highlighted by the numerous signs saying Drive Slowlv -- Dust Means Death.
In the heat of battle, the soldiers' training and comradeship was the bulwark against fear.
As Mike put it: "It did not remove it, but enabled us to overcome it in order to carry out our appointed tasks."
But what of Curly? He had no such training..or comradeship, or even a hate for the enemy to sustain him.
Mike can remember thinking: "Was he truly courageous, or merely putting on a brave front like the rest of us?"
The next part of the story provides the answer. Mike explains:
"We had fought our way through France, across Belgium and into Holland before we got our answer.
"The attempt to capture the bridge at Arnhem had failed. We were pulled back to clear the enemy left behind us during our rapid advance
.

"The fighting was bitter, and early one morning at our headquarters, we received a message that one of our sub-units had sustained casualties during the night and five men had been killed.
"Curly and his driver set off immediately for their location. On their arrival, Curly asked the commander to take him to the men's graves.
"He expressed surprise when told that burial was not possible as they were lying in No Man's Land' between our front line and the enemy's.
"'Show me where they are,' Curly said to the commander, who replied Follow me, but keep low.'
"They crawled across a field until they came to a hedge, behind which his men were dug in. The commander took him to a gap, low down in the hedge.
"'Look through there' he said, and you will see them lying in the middle of the field.
"'The enemy are behind the hedge some 50 yards beyond and until we mount an attack tonight, there is nothing we can do. Any move into the field will bring down a hail of enemy fire. ",

"They crawled back to the relative safety of where Curly's truck was parked. Curly turned to his driver and asked: We have a burial job to do, will you come with me?'
"Without a moment's hesitation, his driver replied yes sir' and reached into the back of the vehicle for two shovels.
'Keeping low, they returned to the gap in the hedge. Curly pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and tied it to one of the shovels. He pushed it through the gap and waved it from side to side in view of the enemy. There was no reaction.
'He then crawled through the hedge into the field, closely followed by his driver.
"All those behind the hedge awaited the hail of fire from the enemy as the two men walked slowly across the field until they reached the bodies, but all remained quiet.
"They began to dig, with only the occasional clink of shovel on stone to break the eerie silence.
"As each grave was completed, a dead body would be searched, any personal effects removed, as were the identification discs around the neck.
"The effects from each man were carefully wrapped in a handkerchief for the eventual return to the sorrowing relatives.
"The body was then lowered gently into the grave and the soil replaced. His rifle was then pushed barrel-first into the soil at the head of the grave and the identification discs tied to the trigger guard.
"When all were buried, Curly and his driver stood for a few moments with heads bowed in front of the line of rifles. All was quiet as if the soldiers on both sides, although bitterly opposed, were still observing the proprieties associated, with funerals the world over.
"Curly turned; and before walking slowly back to our line, said in a voice loud enough to be heard by both sides: Danke Schon (thank you).'
"Not a word was spoken again until the commander had escorted them back to their truck.
"It all seemed so simple after it was done, but the commander knew, as we all did, that this was not a fight governed by the Queensberry Rules'. A Nazi fanatic, or perhaps a solider inflamed by the loss of a colleague, could well have mown down the two men on their errand of mercy
.
'BRAVERY'
"To him, what he had just witnessed, was a great act of bravery."

"As Curly and his driver prepared to move off, he said: 'Thanks for your help. 1 only wish 1 had your courage.'
"Curly looked at him with those clear blue eyes and said: "'I am not brave as you know it. You must understand that we are different. To you, losing your life would be the end, to me it would be the beginning. For you are frightened of the unknown, I am ready to meet my Maker.'
"As they drove off, the commander at last understood the secret of Curly's serenity and strength."
This should be the end of the story, but Curly's departure from the regiment when hostilities ceased were just as enigmatic as when he had arrived.
Mike recalls: "The fighting had hardly ceased and we had barely settled in as occupational troops when Curly's serenity cracked.
"This man who had calmly borne the horrors of war became restless and agitated. Had it, after all, been too much for him?
"Days passed and I could stand his restlessness no longer. 1 summoned up my courage and without much hope of an answer that 1 would understand, asked him what was wrong.
"He answered me, but after he had finished speaking, 1 was none the wiser.
"'1 am wasting valuable time,' he said. 'My work here is done. My real work will take more than my lifetime and 1 must get back to it.'
"The next day he was gone, to 1 know not where, to do 1 know not what, but leaving me with food for thought for the rest of my life."

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